


Resignation

by starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Het, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A better ending for S3. IMHO, anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resignation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: *furtively makes up a fake certificate of ownership*  
> Beta: Thank you, as always, to the lovely and talented katakombs.  
> Written in response to the ninth smut!challenge at the House/Cameron Smut-A-Thon comm.   
> The requirements were: If you could have changed anything about the way Season 3 ended, what would you have done differently? Would Cameron have stayed and not resigned? Would House have caught Cameron with Chase? So here's your chance to change the season finale to your liking. Word limit: between 400 and 800 words.

House limps into his office and there she is, sitting in his chair like she owns the place. “You now have a bigger office than I do, why don’t you go enjoy it?” he snaps.

She stands up, handing him a letter.

He knows what’s coming. “Better be naked pictures,” he says, to cover the sinking feeling in his gut. 

“My resignation letter,” she says calmly. House has a moment of deja-vu. Didn’t they already do this? Back at his apartment, years ago?

He doesn’t bother to read the letter.

“I've gotten all I can from this job,” she says, smiling slightly.

“What do you expect me to do? Break down and apologize? Beg Chase to come back?” House says. 

“No, I expect you to do what you always do. I expect you to make a joke and go on. I expect you to be just fine. I'll miss you.” She turns to walk out.

In a flash, House grabs her wrist. “Who _says_ you’ve gotten ‘all you can from this job’?” 

What the Hell is he doing? He doesn’t know. But he keeps doing it anyway.

She’s looking at him, confused and trying to hide it. “What are you talking about?” 

“Come with me,” he mumbles. He drags her out the office and down the hallway. People stare, but then shake their heads and dismiss them. They’ve all seen his crazy ways.

He thinks of the supply closet where he first caught Cameron and Chase going at it. The notion of doing this – whatever _this_ is – there has a symmetry that appeals to him.

House opens the door and pulls her through it. He can’t lock the door, but there’s a dusty bridge chair in one corner of the tiny room, so he grabs it and braces it under the doorknob. It’ll do.

“House, just _stop_ ,” Cameron says firmly. “I’m not doing this with you.” It seems she knows even better than him what he intends to do.

“You want to leave? Open the door and leave. Cripple, remember? You won’t have much of a challenge getting away.” 

She doesn’t move. 

He edges closer. She still doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. She just watches, like she’s daring him to take the next step.

 _He_ ’s not sure he’s going to take the next step. Or even what it is.

Until their lips collide. 

It’s practically accidental, and after that, it’s pure instinct. Her lips are soft and warm and her arms come up around him, almost unwillingly, and she doesn’t offer any resistance at all when he slips his tongue into her mouth.

He’s sandwiching her between the wall and his body, working her shirt buttons open one by one. He doesn’t really know what’s happening, the logic of it is eluding him, but it doesn’t matter. It feels good, and that’s what he focuses on. The feel of her nipple hardening under his callused fingertips excites him, makes the blood rush hotly in his veins. The last remnants of her perfume tickle at his nose as he suckles gently on the side of her neck, brushing his stubble against delicate skin.

Her hips jerk and almost throw him off-balance, and he backs away slightly. It’s OK; more room to work.

It’s too easy to get his hand into her underwear. Not that he’s complaining. He shifts his hand around until he can get two fingers into her, biting his own lip at how hot and wet she is. He allows the pad of his thumb to chafe over her clit, just slightly, and she moans and reaches to rub the palm of her hand over the unseemly bulge in his jeans.

He braces a hand against the wall as she unzips him and starts teasing him, herself. It becomes a competition – isn’t it always, between them, in one way or another? – each of them staring into the other’s eyes as they work each other frantically, stroking and squeezing and rubbing and trying to make the other person surrender first. 

House wants to see it, wants her to give in. He moves his hand faster, pressing harder circles over her clit. He’s determined, and it works. Her hand slows on his shaft, her eyes closing tight and her teeth pressing hard into her lower lip as she shudders and gives in.

He leaves his fingers there, feeling the aftershocks inside her, enjoying the intimacy of having her like that, even as she catches her breath and her hand tightens around him again, slow milking motions that get faster and rougher until he groans and releases himself into her dainty little hand. Christ, but he feels dirty in the _best_ possible way.

“Don’t go,” he rasps, before she can say anything. 

One last chance, that’s all he’s asking for. Is that so much?

 


End file.
